Grey
by Isamenot
Summary: The last moments. “Check mate, Naomi Misora.”


Grey – Ending

**Disclaimer:** The characters used in this work, as well as the background of "Death Note" and parts of the direct speeches do not belong to me, but to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. They will not be used to earn money.

"Because I am Kira."

4

The words were spoken calmly, naturally, neutral, without any malice, without spite, perhaps a little bit hard, making it difficult for Naomi to grasp their meaning. That is, she did understand what he had said, but something within her seemed to refuse to really process the gained information.

"What?"

3

"What do you mean by…?"

This young man with whom she had just been talking about the Kira-case, to whom she had confided herself and her worries, thoughts, in whom she was prepared to set her hopes, should be Kira? That was something you did not joke about. She wanted to tell him this, but she was not able to pronounce the words. Her voice abandoned her.

2

Naomi could only stare at him, feeling helpless. What, if that had been the truth? What, if he truly was Kira?

She had shown him her driver's license, with her name on it. Her real name! If it was true, if he was Kira, he could kill her now.

Why? Why did she do that? All of her precautions had been destroyed in a moment. Why?

1

Had Naomi underestimated him? Because he was so young? Because his laughing seemed to be so carefree naïve?

Had Naomi overestimated herself? Underestimated her wish to find Kira and call him to account? To revenge her fiancé? The hope, the trust when she had heard the name of "L"?

Naomi felt her heart racing. She wanted to scream, do something to negate his statement, to erase her action. But that was not possible.

Something inside of her screamed: "Check mate, Naomi Misora."

0

Misora, Naomi just felt an icy prickling in her head, then it was gone, and she felt completely numb. The world seemed to have lost all noises, sounds. It was relievingly quiet around her. She could sense every single drop of rain, every single icy snowflake of this grey sleet.

Grey. Everything passed. Grey. Everything flowed away, without return. Grey. Just how she felt.

What was she doing here? Why didn't she let herself drift with the rain? She should let herself drift, follow the grey, pass away.

Slowly, she turned around, leaving. Just the fall of her steps resonated through the silence.

"Is something wrong?" The voice seemed to be far away. Did she know it? What did that matter?

"I have something to do."

Knock.

One step.

Knock.

Another.

Knock.

A further.

Knock.

"Oh. My farther's on the phone." Again that voice. "Do you want to talk with him?"

"There's nothing I've got to talk about."

Silence. Again just her steps echoing. That voice did not call out again.

She had the impression as if she would just crawl along, while the shades of the world were racing by her. Or was it the other way round? She was racing and the world crawled along?

But, actually, she did not care. This place had become unreal. If it had been real at any time, in the first place. The grey was the only thing that still seemed to be real.

Grey – empty. Grey – nothing. Grey - …her.

The morning dawned. The young woman had reached her destiny, an abandoned ledge that could only be found by an erring path. That was how she had found it, many years ago, when she had gone lost on a trip.

She was soaked through by the sleet, her hair stuck to her face, but she did not do a thing to remove them. Instead, she removed her leatherjacket, letting it fall to the ground. The clothing's material had prevented the clothes she wore underneath from getting wet. She seemed not to mind the cold of the winter morning; at least, she did not tremble by the fresh air.

The woman was sure that she would not be found quickly in this place. Why should someone be roaming around here in winter? She should have her peace. She would no longer be a burden to someone else.

Slowly, she reached into the pocket of her pants and retrieved a small object. She carried it along for no real reason, actually, she did not need it since she did not smoke, but still, on could never know. Perhaps she could use it at some time. Just like now.

A few red rays were able to pierce through the clouded sky before they vanished again behind that grey wall. But, on this morning, there was an other red fireball, hidden by a grey rockwall.


End file.
